


Providence

by Inkeye



Category: Prodigal Son (TV 2019)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Canon-Typical Violence, Demon Martin Whitly, Gen, Manipulation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-09
Updated: 2021-03-11
Packaged: 2021-03-15 17:54:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29937174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Inkeye/pseuds/Inkeye
Summary: Malcolm has always been willing to make sacrifices and dubious choices to keep his loved ones safe.Too bad Ainsley feels the same way.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 12





	1. Chapter 1

Ainsley opened the bathroom door long enough to chuck her vibrating phone at the couch, before slamming it shut again and turning the lock.

She breathed in. Out. Braced her arms on the sink and tried to clear her head. It wouldn't work if she couldn't clear her head.

She looked up and glared at her reflection. The face in the mirror looked terrible. Flyaway hair and bloodshot eyes, with only smudges of makeup remaining.

It had been a long day.

Didn't matter. Ainsley shook her head. Fix that later, fix _this_ now. Breathe in, breathe out. On the breath out, she whispered a syllable. Breathing in, another. She whispered words she could barely understand. Words she had narrowly caught through a keyhole one early morning when she was supposed to be asleep. In and out, building in volume until her chanting rang in her ears and fogged up the glass a couple of inches from her face. The small circle grew beyond the reach of her breath, covering her reflection. And when she stopped chanting, it swirled, darkening into a thick grey.

Her head began to throb. There was silence for a moment, and then-

"Well this is odd. Visiting hours were over, hm, forty minutes ago. And I distinctly recall someone saying he wasn't going to use this line of communication anymore."

Ainsley sighed in relief and let her shoulders slump forward. "Yeah, I'm sure he did. But I didn't."

The mist in the mirror whipped around excitedly. "Ainsley? My dear, I hadn't the _foggiest_ idea you knew how to reach me this way!"

She laughed in spite of herself. "I- _might_ have been listening in when Malcolm called you from my apartment. During that whole-undead warlock business."

"Way back then?" Her father sounded put out. "You didn't want to give it a go since?"

"Give it a go?" Ainsley snorted. "Malcolm hung up this trick for a reason, and you know it Dad." She rubbed her temples. "I can feel my head buzzing. Touching your prison like this _hurts_."

"Oh, I don't think that's what hurting you-" His light tone dropped. "But hold that thought. What's going on that you needed to reach me so quickly?"

She shook her head even though she knew he couldn't see it. "Not just reach you. Reach you without an audience. The group that you were talking to Malcolm about yesterday, they resurfaced this morning. And you were right about the one working in social services. They were trying to find the right someone to snatch, but..."

"But Malcolm found them first. And neglected to bring anyone along."

"Completely out of character, right?" She half-smiled, but the mirror was silent. "Dad?"

"I'm sorry, sweetie, just thinking. What of Lieutenant Arroyo and his team?"

"They have leads. Too many. Malcolm was taken hours ago, and-"

"And their victims usually don't last a day. No. They won't get there on time." He clicked his tongue. "If only I had access to my tools-"

"Your tools?" Ainsley frowned in confusion. "Just-do that thing you did last time, when Watkins had him. _See_ him, or whatever. I know you shouldn't, but like I said, no audience."

"Ainsley-"

"You messed up once with that but these guys aren't anywhere near his level. It should be easy for you this time, right?"

"Ainsley. After I revealed that particular ability, that I could See where Malcolm-or you-were, my prison was...fixed. I can't do it anymore. It didn't matter that I can't do any harm with it, that I used it to _help_ -" She could hear the rage under his calm. "It didn't matter."

She stared unseeing at the mirror. "You can't save him."

"...no. I can't."

Ainsley wished she hadn't thrown her phone away. She wanted to smash it on the sink and feel it break in her hands.

"But you can." Her father said.

Ainsley blinked, uncomprehending. "No-no I can't, I don't have any tracking magic-"

"You need tracking magic as much I did."

She laughed again. "I can't do magic like _you_."

"If we're talking capability, I must fervently disagree! Otherwise how would this call have, well, connected?"

"What?"

"You don't think Malcolm invented something out of whole cloth to wiggle into my cell, do you? Our boy's smart, certainly, but that sort of thing takes years and years to perfect, not to be tested the first time on this prison of mine. Oh no, he simply repurposed my old Seeing spell, and made it more...user friendly. Powered with a more neutral energy. And a little less invasive, to be fair."

"Uh-" Ainsley paused. "So-how I reached you just now-"

"With focus, the right incantation, and of course, our bond."

"Right. All that. That's how I'm going to See where Malcolm is?"

"Well, it's a little more-you'll get the general gist of where he is, but since this is your first time you might have some difficulty _just_ taking the location. It won't feel the same as what you're doing right now. You'll get a bit of his feelings, a bit of those ne'er-do-well's thoughts, maybe some emotions or intentions, so on and so forth. You'll need to weed out the right information, and-you know what, why don't I just explain everything from the beginning, and we'll take it from there. Let dear ole dad show you the ropes."

"And-that'll be all, right? I'll just take the location, nothing's going to-to happen to me, right?"

"No, no, sweetie, I'll be giving you instructions the entire way. Those amateurs won't be able to do anything to you. And if you're worried about my _dark influence_ ," He deepened his voice theatrically, "Just remember this is only a two way for communication. Literally nothing of me can exit this prison except my words. And nothing is going to happen that _you_ don't want to happen. You're in control. Okay?"

Ainsley took a deep breath. In. Out. "Okay. Tell me what to do."

\---

Miles away in a dusty basement, four people stood in a semicircle and argued.

"You gave him too much!"

"No I didn't, and it wouldn't matter if I did! We need to get a move on and finish this already, who knows who this guy told?" One of the women gestured to the chair they were grouped around, and the unconscious man tied to it.

"We're only in this mess because we didn't follow all the rules." A man argued, pulling several sheets from his pocket. "And I think we should follow them to the letter from now on, so we don't fuck this up even more. Selene?"

The other woman shrugged. "The uh, "sacred text" says they die awake and screaming, I don't have a problem with that."

Their fourth member nodded. "I don't think we screwed up just because we didn't torture the last guy right, but yeah let's just hold off for a bit. If they knew where we were then we'd be screwed already."

"Alright then." The man nodded, ignoring the annoyed grumbling. "Votes in, we hold off on killing him."

He shivered at a sudden draft. "I'll go prep our gift." He walked over to the table, stacking the sheets out in order next to a briefcase. Unlocking it, he pulled out the knives they had deliberately left covered in their last victims blood. Two more layers and it would be complete.

He frowned. "Hey Selene, check that window, will you?"

"Rusted close, why?"

"I feel-" His eyes widened as he felt his throat tighten. 'B-barrier! Make a-"

His words died in a gurgle. He tried to support himself on the table, but his arms felt so weak. Falling to the ground, he rolled and clutched his throat, but couldn't feel anything there besides the pressure that wouldn't let up. On either side, he could hear the same rasping noise he was making.

Then he couldn't hear anything at all.

In the chair, the unconscious man shivered and curled in on himself. But he didn't wake, and long minutes passed.

Everything was still. In the distance, sirens began to wail.

\---

"Well _done_ , my dear."


	2. Chapter 2

Malcolm ducked around the cubicle, dodging interns and raised eyebrows. He walked up to Dani's desk and dropped a tray with two steaming cups next to the dozing woman.

"One for you, with a little extra bergamot."

Her head whipped up. "Bright, what are you-" She pushed her chair to follow Malcolm's direction.

"Just one sec Dani, gotta go drop some things off." He walked towards Gil's office which, oddly, had it's blinds down already.

"Hey, you shouldn't-"

Malcolm swung the door open "Goooood morning, G-uh. Agent Swanson." Behind him, Dani picked up her tea and spun back around.

Colette raised an unimpressed eyebrow. "Yes, good morning-"

"You know what, it's good you're here. You can pass these along." Malcolm pulled two folders from the stack in his hand.

"Bright, Agent Swanson is-"

"Here is the most recent copy of my magical signature, taken this morning. It's a little-frazzled, but completely clean."

"Mr. Bright-"

"And _here_ is a record of my hospital stay." He thrust the papers toward her. "Including the details of that drug cocktail my kidnappers used on me, and the length of time I was-"

"Mr. Bright, for once would you please pay attention when it _doesn't_ suit you. I know you didn't kill them."

"You...know." Malcolm dropped his outstretched hand.

"Yeah." Gil rubbed his eyes. "She didn't come here to accuse you of anything, Bright."

"Because I know how to do my job," Colette interjected, "We had a scanner on the scene before the Umbral magic completely dissipated. There wasn't much left, but the pattern came from outside the building."

"Outside..." Malcolm's eyebrows furrowed. "How did it look? Did the scanner find where it started?"

Collette rolled her eyes. "Like I said, not much to go of off." Malcolm gave her a pleading look. " _But_...she noticed there wasn't any of your attacker's essences mixed in. They didn't have enough time to react."

"...huh." Malcolm muttered.

They had been amateurs, sure, but anyone being attacked would defend themselves. These four hadn't even _tried_. He tapped his fingers and thumb together, thinking. Something of that potency would be felt. There were people down the block who had been understandably worried when aftershocks spread out from the basement. So maybe someone they knew, someone who used similarly dark magic turned on them, but there was never any sign of a fifth member-

Gil cleared his throat. Malcolm looked up, and the other man pointed at the door.

"But-"

"Agent Swanson isn't here for you, Bright. There's a stack of information you asked for next door. Have at it, and I'll be over in a minute."

"Fine." Malcolm said. "But our team will be in on any developments?" He looked at Colette.

"Possibly." She conceded.

"Okay then. I'll take my leave." He bowed out of the room.

\---

"So you made a fool out of yourself."

"Good to see you too." Malcolm smiled at JT and slid a pile of papers over to him. "You know, I think she's warming up to me now that we only see each other every couple of months." He considered for moment. "Or after I get kidnapped."

"If Swanson's team came here every time you got grabbed, the FBI would make this their new headquarters."

"Yeah..." Malcolm said. "Hey, are you okay?"

"I don't want to talk about it." JT paused. "Maybe later."

"Alright. Whenever you want to." Malcolm said easily.

"So..." JT pulled the stack closer. "We got a little Umbral magic floating around the city."

"Yep."

"And a little now always means a mess later."

"Last instance of manifested Umbral magic in New York City, Matthew Connors in 2006 with eleven dead and twenty-four hospitalized. Two years before that, Ronan Thompson managed to gather a significant amount but was unable to release it. And before that-well, we all know that story."

"Yeah...are we one hundred percent sure...?"

"One _hundred_ percent. I checked myself after I was released from the hospital." Malcolm slapped one file down and grabbed another. "There's no way the Surgeon is responsible for this. We need to comb over anyone they might have interacted with over the past month. And try to keep it under wraps until we have them in custody. If the wrong people find out there's a new practitioner in town there'll be problems."

"Yeah, I remember. A bunch of assholes crawling outta the woodwork hoping for a big bad boss to kiss up to again."

"Exactly."

"Guess it's a good thing your sister hasn't caught wind of this yet."

\---

Gil sighed. "Sorry about that-"

Colette was still looking at the door. "Lieutenant Arroyo, I didn't lie to you. I don't have any doubts someone else is responsible for their deaths." She sighed. "But my bosses do."

"What."

She raised her hands defensively. "I told them what I had. I don't like Bright, but I made my opinion known. They nodded and agreed and sent me here anyway. With this." She placed a box on the table between them.

Gil picked it up. "And what is-this?"

"Don't play dumb with me, Arroyo. I want you to-"

"He doesn't need it."

"Because of what they think, he _does_. I know Bright wouldn't touch that magic with a ten foot pole. They don't. They'll make decisions based on whether or not they can be certain he isn't capable of touching it." She gestured at the box. "You can convince him. You _need_ to convince him."

Gil looked down at the box, his face inscrutable. "It's not that simple."

"Why not?"

He sighed. "That's not mine to share. I'll talk to him about it. But I won't make him."

"If you want what's best for him, you might have to."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Might need to do a bit more editing when I'm awake. Alas for typos.


End file.
